


Out of a Haze

by chaineddove



Category: Angel Sanctuary
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-26
Updated: 2005-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaineddove/pseuds/chaineddove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone’s always trying to kill me, myself first of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of a Haze

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in volume 16 after Kira’s “personality change.”

Someone’s always trying to kill me, myself first of all. You though… you never let me disappear painlessly into a haze like I wanted. “Get up,” you’d say. “Get the fuck up off my floor. Your life might be shit, but if you’re going to give up like an ass, go do it somewhere else.” So I’d get the fuck up, not because I particularly cared if I lived or died, but because you told me to and hey, at least you were bothered, even if it was only because seeing me destroying myself was ruining your appetite. You’d throw me a package of smokes and because my hand was shaking too badly to use the lighter you’d lean over to light my cigarette with the smoldering end of yours. Ashes fell on my hand, cooling instantly, gray and fragile and dead, like you wouldn’t let me be. So we’d smoke the pack to the end, and when you told me to get the fuck back on the floor or the bed or wherever I’d do that too, because I was still flying high, and what the hell did it matter, anyway? At least pain makes you feel alive.

That was one of the things you told me, probably as some twisted sort of consolation. This hurts like hell though, and I know I’m dying, again. I’m losing track of the deaths I’ve died by now. I should have given up long ago. The kid’s got half the sky on his side by now, what can a good-for-nothing half-human damned druggie do to help him? Saving the world isn’t my style, anyway — I don’t really know why I went along at all, and later when I told you, you only laughed and told me I was a moron. Maybe it’s just that guys like us don’t really belong in paradise. Besides, I’d rather be hurting anyway, because the pain makes me feel alive. Life is shit, but at least I’m alive.

You’re the one who tried to kill me this time though. The kid had all these tears in his eyes and he’s going to be moping for days before he grins and informs us all we have to save you. But I know the truth — you know what you’re doing. You always knew, didn’t you? We were just along for the ride. You really suck, you bastard, you know that? And now you’re not even trying to keep me alive anymore. “You’d do better to go back to hell,” you tell me, and you try to kill me, this time, as if you haven’t saved me countless times before.

But I don’t want to die anymore, even if it’s just to spite you. Hell can wait for me a while longer. I don’t want to die, so I get the fuck up, even though everyone else told me not to. Someone or another around here should be able to fix me like the broken doll I am, just for a little while, just long enough. Because you’re not you anymore and that really pisses me off, so if I’m going to hell, I’m damn well taking you with me. I’ll be fucked before I go alone.

If you were still yourself, that would probably make you laugh.


End file.
